


In the warmth of your smile

by Elesianne



Series: Maedhros and Fingon [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Romance, Some Humor, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elesianne/pseuds/Elesianne
Summary: Maedhros and Fingon celebrate to mark the happy occasion of Maedhros moving out of his family home.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: Maedhros and Fingon [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689427
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46
Collections: Feanorian Week 2020





	In the warmth of your smile

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the happy days of Valinor before all the unpleasantness. [Quenya names](https://elesianne.tumblr.com/post/183171975931/quenya-names-of-the-house-of-finw%C3%AB) used.

When Maitimo is given a position at court as his grandfather's secretary, he gets his own room at the palace, too.

Findekáno squeals when he hears of that. His eyes shine as he says, 'I intend to see how loud I can make you _scream_.'

Maitimo blushes against his will and replies, 'You are one who is likely to scream. Please keep your voice down for now, Finno. We are not yet there.' They are in his room in his home, and in the next room is Makalaurë. He is currently practising on his flute but might be told to stop at any moment by Fëanáro or Nerdanel for it is late. Even early-rising Tyelkormo might tire of Makalaurë's late-night practice.

'But we will be soon!' Findekáno does lower his voice, though he beams excitedly at Maitimo still. 'You will ask for a room far away from grandpapa, won't you? And from any keen-eared busybodies.'

Maitimo can't help grinning too. 'As far away as I can manage. And grandfather's seneschal likes me very much so I think he will fulfil my requests.'

Findekáno's grin melts to softness as he replies, 'Everyone likes you, Russandol, and with good reason.' He sweeps Maitimo's hair away from his forehead. 'You have enchantingly pretty hair, and the rest of you isn't very bad either.'

His voice as dry as he can make it, Maitimo asks, running a hand down Findekáno's chest, 'Not very bad? I have a memory from last week of you singing – or moaning, rather – my praises when I spent a good hour in the hunting cabin showing you just what I can do to you with my 'not very bad' body –'

Findekáno shivers at Maitimo's touch, laughs at his words, and begins undressing. 'A godlike body, then, Maitimo, with the grace of Nessa and strength of Tulkas and the clever fingers of Aulë and the blinding radiance of Varda. There, is that enough for you to take off your clothes and to do to me what you did last week?'

It is. With fingers that are certainly no match for Aulë's corporeal form but quick enough at undoing the two dozen small buttons of his surcoat, Maitimo undresses himself and takes his beloved into his arms. Maitimo will not say it out loud now because Findekáno needs no praise to know that he is fair but in Maitimo's eyes, he is more radiant than anyone.

Once they are both naked, bare skin delightfully meeting bare skin, Maitimo runs a hand up Findekáno's back, curling his fingers in the soft hair at his nape. He asks, 'Are you in that mood tonight, then? To let me do with you as I wish, for as long as I wish?'

Findekáno tips his chin up and looks Maitimo in the eye. 'Indeed I am', he says boldly. Grabbing Maitimo's free hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss, he adds, softer, 'I already know that whatever you want is what I want. You know me.'

'I do know you, my love', Maitimo says, something in his throat. How does Findekáno always manage to bring tenderness to passionate moments, and humour to serious ones?

And there it is now, a spark of laughter in Findekáno's eyes and in the corners of his generous mouth. 'Then you know that it would be wise for you to keep one hand on my mouth', he says. 'Since we are still in your parents' house.'

Maitimo thinks of the privacy they will have in the palace, finding himself unusually impatient for something. 'If I forget to, your loud noises will no doubt remind me', he says, and carries Findekáno off to the bed before he can point out – Maitimo knows him indeed, and knows that he would – that Maitimo enjoys his loud noises.

And he truly does, when there are no brothers on the other side of the wall. For now he will enjoy the muffled version of Findekáno's moans, almost equally delightful.

*

Findekáno dances around Maitimo's new room on light feet, beaming more radiant than ever, while Maitimo watches him with hands on his hips, fond.

'You remembered to order the thick curtains, I see. Very good! I like the colour too, it's a nice shade of green. And a sturdy door and lock, a very nice lock.' Findekáno stops his flitting about to caress it lovingly, making Maitimo chuckle.

'Would you put the lock to use and come here, you silly thing?'

'Oh, so you want my hands on _you_ instead?' Findekáno locks the door and comes to throw his arms around Maitimo's neck, standing a little on his toes to be more of a height. 'You only need ask, always', he says.

Maitimo considers saying 'I know' but decides that a kiss will send the same message and be more enjoyable for both of them. So he puts his arms around Findekáno's trim waist and pulls him close and kisses him with the goal of making him moan and melt in his arms.

After a moment of Maitimo's intent exploring of his mouth and soft touches to the back of his neck, a sensitive place for Findekáno, he does melt, and while he leans against Maitimo with much of his weight, he is certainly not idle. One of his hands snakes between them, hitches up Maitimo's tunic and starts on the laces of his breeches.

Maitimo lets him, raising one of his own hands to the buttons of Findekáno's jacket.

Breaking their kiss for a moment, he pants, 'It would be faster to undress each other if we weren't kissing at the same time.'

'Don't be tiresomely practical', Findekáno scolds even as he takes advantage of their lips being parted to pull Maitimo's overtunic over his head. Maitimo can feel his unbraided long hair getting into a mess that will soon tangle if he doesn't smooth it down, so he does.

'Fastidious Maitimo', Findekáno grins as he pulls up Maitimo's undertunic too, kissing his chest as it is bared, taking a second to suck on a nipple too.

When he can speak Maitimo replies, 'Says Finno with his hair that takes more time to do every morning than his mother's.'

'It is not my fault that she has little eye or time for beauty!' Findekáno tosses his head and his braided black mane with its golden beads and ribbons sways beautifully.

Maitimo does love it, and he tells Findekáno so. 'I like all of your adornments.'

'And I like you free of any.' Findekáno pets Maitimo's hair. 'I like you unadorned and unclothed and – undone.' He flashes a smile. 'I wonder, why am I waiting to undo you?'

And with that he takes Maitimo's hand and pulls him towards the bed, both of them half out of their clothes now. Maitimo goes willingly and lets Findekáno's single finger push him backwards on to the bed. It is a common occurrence, almost a habit of theirs.

Only there is something hard on the bed this time and Maitimo yelps and jumps back up.

'Oh no!' Findekáno's hand covers his mouth as he tries not to laugh. 'My present. I forgot I put it down there.' He comes to rub at Maitimo's upper back where Maitimo himself rubbed it after he was poked there by the hard, paper-wrapped object in the bed.

Findekáno grabs it and gives it to Maitimo. 'I hope that you'll like it even though it ambushed you so grievously.'

Maitimo huffs in amusement as he unwraps the gift. Then he stares at it, at a loss for words.

'Well, what do you think?' Findekáno prompts.

Maitimo settles on saying, 'It is… interesting.'

It is a little copper statuette, the length of about two hands. Whoever made it obviously has technical skill, and the flowing lines of it are well-done, but it is… hideous. It depicts some animal but Maitimo cannot even tell what animal. Whatever it is, its mouth is open in a grimace and its eyes bulge out. Maitimo has a horrible, inexplicable urge to mimic its expression.

Findekáno smiles as bright as ever as he says, 'It is absolutely horrible, isn't it?'

Maitimo's gaze whips from the deranged face of the figurine to Findekáno. 'What? I mean, why would you give me a gift that you think ugly?'

'A gift that I made ugly. I made it myself.' Findekáno beams, very pleased with himself. 'Isn't it brilliant? You won't be able to help but think of me when you see it, and to smile.'

'Or grimace.'

Findekáno's gently rubbing hand stops rubbing and swats Maitimo's back instead. 'Admit it, it's a great idea!'

Maitimo turns the statuette in his hands, his lips tugging into a smile. 'It's an idea that is very characteristic of you. And it is a skilfully made little statue, even if it is the ugliest I've ever seen. Your practice at bronze casting has paid off.'

'Yes', Findekáno agrees without any arrogance. He takes the statuette from Maitimo and puts it on the bedside table, stopping to check the drawer. 'Ah!' he exclaims. 'I see that you have already put the most important thing in its place.' He tosses the vial of oil between the pillows.

'I don't know about the most important thing', Maitimo mumbles, feeling a blush crawl up his neck and face again. His pale, freckled skin flushes almost as easily as his mother and Carnistir's.

Findekáno comes to him. 'Look at you blushing after almost two years of us being lovers', he teases, and more tenderly he adds, 'You know, the visiting silver-haired lass of the Falmari who wrote a poem about your eyelashes was quite right. They're remarkable. Long and dark red –'

'They aren't red', Maitimo protests. 'They're brown.'

Findekáno waves a hand. 'Reddish-brown. It's more poetic to say that they are red. And though I am no poet, only a singer, I am –' he glances around the room '– already writing a poem in my head about how I am going to make love to you and your red eyelashes on every piece of furniture in this room.'

'You're going to make love to my eyelashes?' Maitimo can barely keep from snickering – Findekáno's playfulness is contagious – and has to dodge Findekáno's swatting hand again. 'It sounds very unpractical, even without the eyelashes. That small table by the door would surely break under the weight of even one of us.'

'You are even less of a poet than I am! Do not take things so literally, Maitimo. Except this: get naked and get on the bed.'

'Feeling domineering today, are you, my darling?' But Maitimo does take off his breeches and socks, all that he was left wearing.

He does not mind a little bit of imperiousness from Findekáno every now and then.

'Rather, and tired of all this talking', Findekáno confirms, stripping himself with a few quick movements.

'I will not lie on my back', Maitimo warns as he sits down on the edge of the bed. 'It still aches from your very hard gift.'

Findekáno bursts into laughter. 'I swear, my love, I never know whether you make all those innuendoes on purpose or not.'

'Sometimes neither do I', Maitimo admits.

Findekáno comes to stand between his legs, naked and hard and smiling. 'If you will not lie down, then would you be on all fours or astride me?'

Maitimo hums. 'My favourite options.'

*

Findekáno lies on his back with his arm thrown over his face, quiet and languorous like he only is in these post-pleasure moments.

Next to him Maitimo lies on his stomach, head propped up on his arms, watching Findekáno's well-muscled chest rise and fall and breathing calm and slow.

When the heat on Maitimo's own skin has cooled, leaving behind only stickiness, he gets up and fetches a cloth, wets it from the jug on the wash-table, and cleans up Findekáno and then himself.

'Mm.' Findekáno kisses him as a thank you after Maitimo has tossed the cloth back to the wash table and returned to his lover's embrace. 'That was a very good first try from us', Findekáno says.

Maitimo tries to look stern but his mouth twitches without his permission. 'A _try_?' he asks. 'You call that a try?'

'Well.' Findekáno's fingers write quick characters on Maitimo's back. _Vertical lines – Sarati_ , Maitimo thinks. Not Tengwar, unsurprisingly. Findekáno continues, 'We were in too much of a hurry in the end. Didn't even get anything inside – anywhere.'

'I still don't understand how you can be completely shameless about doing these acts and yet bashful when talking about them. Silly boy.' Maitimo breathes in the scent of Findekáno, sweaty and warm and familiar.

'Well, I am a prince. Very properly brought up.'

'Unlike me?' Maitimo raises his brows just to tease.

'You are a prince but your father can hardly be called proper.'

Maitimo has to hum in agreement at that. Fëanáro can be called many things, and indeed frequently is, but never 'proper'.

'Darling.' Findekáno touches his cheek. 'Do not let your smile escape. I am sorry I brought up our parents.'

'No need to apologise.' Maitimo tries to smile. It is likely a wan attempt, but Findekáno smiles back anyway, and he always knows how to do it right.

'Perhaps one day we will not need curtains so thick and a lock so sturdy', he says. 'Perhaps one day our love will be accepted by others besides just us.'

'Perhaps', Maitimo says. He is better at forcing false conviction to his voice than light into his smile.

With a final kiss to Findekáno's strong shoulder, he gets up and starts gathering his clothes from the floor. While he dresses he says over his shoulder, 'I'm going to take advantage of the staff in the kitchens here being less nosy and less familiar with me and go get something to eat.'

'Something sweet, no doubt. You and your sweet tooth', Findekáno grins. 'Bring me something with lemon or honey, please.'

'As you wish.'

Before he unlocks the door he casts one more look at Findekáno in the canopy bed, sprawled on the silk sheets as relaxed and happy as a cat in a warm place, eyes closed and hair a dark cloud around his head. He has a smile on his lips still.

 _Flowers might bloom in the warmth of your smile_ , Maitimo thinks as he slips quietly into the hallway. _I certainly do._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you thought of this :)
> 
> I'm also on [Tumblr](https://elesianne.tumblr.com).


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